Note to JH: We're not incompetents! Well, just sometimes. :) The e-mail came through as fast as it should, and Jim was fiddling with his computer just so he could read it in real-time. The few words informed him of Sharon's whereabouts, her situation, and the fact that he couldn't possibly fix this by himself. He needed some outside help. He logged off and connected his PC to the *other* BNC network cable. A fanciless old-fashioned terminal screen greeted him. He typed in a broadcast message and waited for the answers. 14 ANTOINE D'IVOI --> I offer thee my sword, noble friend! JUMPING NOW. 06 LUCAS WIRL --> Make some coffee, comrade! JUMPING IN 15 SEC. 48P KAREN--> Back to civilization then... all right! JUMPING IN 40 SEC. Jim had worked with two of them, the two guys. Their realities were pretty close to his own -- Antoine being from a swords-and-horses world ruled by Luddites and Lucas from a Fabian-Socialist 1800's utopia -- and the three already knew, as far as people from cultures so different from one another could know each other. This "Karen" Jim knew by fame: she had been found astray in the Nazi-ruled 02 and managed to survive in the ruins of Turin for a month with a good 40 soldiers chasing her. She was from a Plural reality -- one of the rare worlds where the laws of physics changed every few miles or so. Jim had been to a Plural only once and was kicked out after a couple of local days, but knew that P's were always down-to-justice madlands. For example, in the place where Karen was born "windsurfing" meant using old windsurf or paraglider sails as tools for a very special martial art; and a windsurfer she was, it seemed. Antoine appeared. His chainmail armor was worn and patched in more than a few points, and it was visibly too large on his comparatively thin (in this reality he actually looked quite muscular) frame. Behind his back was sheathed a visibly home-made musket that classified him as a member of the outlawed Tinkerists. He raised a hand, palm towards the ceiling, as a salute, then shaked hands with Jim. His nerd's instinct drove him to the various devices in Jim's room and he only half-listened to what his host was saying. The second to come was Lucas. His idea of infiltration gear was much simpler: an oak pike, lockpicks and a small flask of acid; besides that, he was still suited in a most dignified frack and derby hat (blue, of course -- to jump with a grey derby hat was usually a big mistake). The three exchanged some amenities as they made room for the next incoming jumper. Lucas was just telling the others how boring his peaceful, comunitarian world was, when the last flash came through. Karen was incredibly thin and sported the physique of a track biker. She was dressed much like a Tuareg, and the only thing that denoted her Italian nationality were the labels on the tyre segments protecting her shoulders. Her sail flashed for a moment in the team's face before being folded under her robe with a graceful, calculated motion. A soft thump announced her feet touching the ground. After the customary exchange of news from the respective realities, Jim explained the situation to his companions. They briefly discuss a plan and...
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- ...Karen the madlands survivalist has the best idea of what to do.
- ...Antoine the would-be knight has the best idea of what to do.
- ...Lucas the steampunk techie has the best idea of what to do.
- *Good old Jim has the best idea of what to do.
(guess who)Mon Jun 21 17:04:27 1999